Saturday, 19 March 2011

The night before Holi

The loud speakers blared with Bollywood music. You know, the "hits"
and the "chartbuster" type remixes, ones that end up making more
money than what the original films do. They were interspersed with some Marathi
tracks as well, the very popular ones, and some which were rip-offs of certain
Bollywood remixes. Such musical...extravaganzas are a regular feature in
these parts, especially on occasions like elections, Ganesh pandals,
birthday parties of some politician's kids- a memorable evening and some good
entertainment, I suppose...for some votes in return, of course. As
if that's a crime? Not in these parts, at least.

Tonight's occasion is Holi – the festival of
colours.

For a large portion of my life, Holi was a favourite
festival; the community coming together, visiting relatives, colouring their
faces, and painfully scrubbing the colours off your skin (and hoping that you
wouldn't have to use kerosene, or ghazlet, as they call it here).
It was a perfect getaway from the mundane routines of life; to freak out, as
one might aptly describe it.

Obviously, playing with colours was more exciting than
the bonfire. Nonetheless, I tried not missing the bonfire. The uncles in the
neighbourhood collected dried coconut leaves and branches, and would try to make
the pile more aesthetically pleasing; once, they'd even put an effigy of
Holika. They were often helped by their kids, who tried juggling duties with a
game of tag, and later, cricket.

The next day was battleground for us: me and a few
friends would take on our neighbours' kids in what we called the ''Holi Wars'';
we'd prepare our arsenal weeks in advance, and fortify our 'base camp'. Water
balloons became grenades, and the pichkari
a sub-machine gun. People who came out dressed were never spared; I mean, who
in their right mind goes out dressed on Holi?

I don't think we ever won; we often got outnumbered
four against one. But, that was the closest I got to being John Rambo, with the
war paint on face and all.

Today,
those kids I played with are some politician’s workforce; they still set up the
bonfire with their fathers and uncles, but the political
undertones aren't as subtle as they once were; or perhaps, I’m now
old enough to understand that.

We’re
not friends now; more so acquaintances- flashing a smile when I meet them on
the street, or when they come over with a signature petition for some cause-
coexisting peacefully on the same street, and neighbourhood.

The friend I used to play with became a
pain-in-the-neck, obsessed with money, pubs and high-end cell phones; I haven’t
heard from the second guy for over seven years. Don’t know if he’s a
politician’s right-hand or a tech-geek; though, I’d prefer the latter.

Needless to say, on this particular night I wanted to
avoid the noise, and all my old friends.

I found myself in a different neighbourhood, a quieter
one. I haven't been to these parts in ages. A few kids ran past me, spraying
water on each other, laughing. They probably had exams the next day, but heck,
like that ever stopped kids?

Their fathers and uncles were stacking dried leaves
and branches on the bonfire; they could aptly be described as merry and happy.
Their mothers and grandmothers, not wanting to miss out any of the fun, were
outdoors too. Just the way a community is supposed to be, almost like one of
those serials they air on SAB TV.

I couldn't see any political hoardings, however, which
were rather conspicuous by their absence. No fancy registration-plates
claiming political allegiances either. Just people who value this event, and
share it with each another and their children.

I walked on, thinking, 'how would Prahlad feel about
his bonfire being lit by some corrupt politician?' But for a moment there, I
forgot that's what his father was, wasn't he? A corrupt demon-king, ultimately
slayed by the forces of good?
Holi, as we wrote in essays, symbolized the victory of good over evil, and all
sorts of idealistic nonsense. I think it's an excuse for people with power (and
lots of money) to throw lavish gatherings...I don't visit my relatives, who'd
want to ruin a good holiday?

Those neighbours still play Holi, or maybe they don't.
I haven't noticed really; guess they're all mature now and think
it naive to be nostalgic. I'd agree on that.

Call it a cliche, but times change and so do people,
for the better or for worse; that's not for me to decide. They do,
occasionally enjoy a game of cricket, albeit with swearing and profane
references.

Maybe, I'm too judgmental on them. Or perhaps, a
tad bit cynical.

Ah, the loud music again- 'Sheila ki jawani'
this time; how appropriate. I just hope they keep to the 10 pm deadline. As if
I care; I'd probably shut the windows, and watch a movie, get up late in the
morning, and laze around a bit more.